1 

TTmlmlmffllli 

! 

FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM  TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


599  Ernr,^... 


"OWiiN. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/lyricpoemOOIunt 


MAY    2  1&33  "^ 


LYPJC    rOE^r^fi/C»L  Rf»^ 


SONNETS    AND   MISCELLANIES 


BY 


G  E  ORG  E     E  U  X  T 


BOSTON: 

TicKNOR,  in:i:i),  and  fields. 

M  DCCC  LIV. 


THURSTOX,   TORRT,  AXD  EMERSOX,  PRINTERS. 


CONTENTS. 

SO.VXET            .                 .  .1 
TUE   POKT               ...... 

The  Nightingale  .  . 

The  Mayflower           ...  S 

BrXKEB  IIiLL,    JlXE    17  1  1 

TuE  American  Ensign 

Our  Couxtbv         .  .13 

Requiem  for  President  Taylor            ...  17 

Bunker  Hill,  June  17,  1840       .  19 

The  Emperor's  Funer-il          ...  22 

The  Friends  .       L'S 

The  Wind          .....  ;;1 

The  Poor  Max      .                         .  :^t 

Caliguia             ......  37 

Harvh«*t  Odk           .                                       .  .41 

Ope  .'SING  at  Ca.mdridge  11 

Harvest  Oi.i:                                     .             .  l'> 

IIarvf-«:t  So.m;  .....  1'.' 

Ljsvs  written  in  a  Co.mmon-Pl.\ce  Book           .  52 

Jenny  Lind       .....  V. 

Bacchus  and  the  Fro«;>    ....  i^^ 

She  's  Fair  and  False            ....  00 


ir 

contents. 

I  Met  T 

HEE                 .                 .                 .                 .                 ' 

Yon  Lovely  Star        ..... 

Stanzas 

Song     . 

Song 

. 

Song     . 

.                  .                  .                  .                  . 

Song 

Love     . 

Ah,  Foolish  Heart           .... 

Epithalamium              .            .            .            .            . 

Sonnet 

. 

Sonnet 

Sonnet 

Sonnet 

Epicedium  . 

Sonnet 

. 

Sonnet. 

A  StatesjMAn      .            .            •            . 

Sonnet. 

Philosophy               .            .            .            . 

Sonnet. 

Christianity      .... 

Sonnet. 

1  Cor.  XX.    ..... 

Sonnet. 

Matt.  xxt.  5       . 

Dedication  Hymn        .            .             .            .            . 

Hymn  for  Ee-dedication  .... 

Hymn    . 

The  Future 

Memory 

AND  Hope    .             .... 

P  0  E  )!  S 


SONNCT. 

Born,  not  of  fickle  fancy  in  tlie  brain, 
Nor  nursed  by  wild  caprice's  morbid  flamt-. 
But  with  a  nobler  hope  and  loftier  aim, 
I  speed  my  venture  to  the  open  main  ; 
There  let  it  bide  wiiat  fortune  wills;  to  gain 
Some  shining  leaf  of  lioimr's  wreath  sublime, 
Or,  shipwrecked  on  the  shallow  banks  of  time, 
Unhonored  sink,  —  but  oh,  without  a  stain. 
Truth,  Love,  the  patriot's  hope,  its  manly  themes. 
Old  voices  of  the  minstrePs  noblest  art, 
"Who,  to  the  beating  of  the  worUPs  great  heart, 
Chanted,  in  lofty  rhyme,  his  generous  dreams. 
The  world  grows  old,  they  say,  —  but  oh,  once  more 
Come  Faith  and  burning  thought  and  high  emprise  of 
yore. 

1 


THE  POET. 

The  poet  sits  by  his  own  fire-side, 

Alone  and  afar  from  the  worldly  din, 
And  choicest  guests  at  his  bidding  glide 

To  sniile  on  his  gentle  welcome  in ; 
Heart-friends  they  are,  and  with  them  oft 

He  holds  some  converse  sweet  and  new, 
And  they  reply  with  accent  soft 

To  all  his  questions  kind  and  true. 

First  enters  in  a  palmer-wight, 

Much  scoffed  at  on  the  king's  highway, 
And  marked  with  stains  of  many  a  slight 

The  outside  of  his  amice  gray. 
Though  deeply  versed  in  varied  lore, 

Of  all  true  riches  holds  the  key, 
Yet  few  will  own  a  friend  so  poor 

As  homely,  wise  Humility. 


THE    POET.  3 

The  next,  one  common  blush  would  rise 

On  good  society's  whole  face, 
If  she,  whose  only  drapery  is 

Her  own  sweet  charms,  should  there  take  place! 
What,  all  unveiled!  'twere  shame  to  brook, — 

Shocking  to  Age  and  ill  for  Youth ! 
Yet  he  invites  and  dares  to  I(X)k 

The  blushless  bard  on  naked  Truth  ! 

Modest  as  Nubia's  unclad  daughters, 

Though  close  beside  her,  like  a  shade, 
A  fiery  gallant,  ripe  for  slaughters, 

Hut  best  in  weeds  of  peace  arrayed  ; 
lie,  Freedom,  lord  of  crag-built  places, 

And  siinds,  where  dusky  wanderers  roam, 
On  breezy  hills  the  wild-deer  chases, 

But  makes  the  poet's  heart  liis  home. 

And  one,  more  gay  than  summer  fairy, 
That  trips  oVr  meads,  in  moonlit  dances, 

A  shape,  whose  infinite  vagar\'. 

Round  heaven  and  earth  each  moment  glances; 


THE    POET. 

And  wet  with  dew  from  Nature's  bowers, 

Her  flowing  locks  like  star-beams  glisten, 
Her  robe  of  azure,  —  freaked  with  flowers, — 
:    What  bard  to  Fancy  would  not  listen  ? 

From  friends  like  these  forever  learning, 

The  poet's  heart  is  like  a  river. 
Whose  generous  current,  unreturning, 

Flows  onward  to  life's  sea  forever; 
With  golden  music,  sweet  and  earnest. 

It  mingles  whh  that  sullen  ocean, 
And  gives  its  softest  voice  or  sternest, 

To  ease  the  world's  pent-up  emotion. 

Love  owes  him  thus  his  soft  revealings, 

And  Griefs  mute  heart  by  woe  were  riven, 

But  he  finds  words  to  melt  her  feelings, 
And  wafts  the  soul  of  Hope  to  heaven. 

And  still  when  Freedom  slept  or  languished, 
His  cheering  strains  have  broke  the  fetter, 

Yet  he,  too  oft,  pines  lone  and  anguished, 

:   While  all  the  world 's  his  thankless  debtor. 


THE   NIGHTINGALE. 

Oft  have  I  read  in  many  a  foreign  talc, 

Oh  niKlitinjialc  ! 
From  thy  lovc-ladcn  heart  how  sonar's  full  soul 

Warbled  would  roll  ; 
While,  through  the  livelong  night,  from  thy  clear  throat, 

The  ravishing  note, 
With  such  entrancing  melody  would  gush, 

That  winds  grew  hush. 
As  even,'  Auwral  fall  and  C(»nqucring  rise 

Challenged  the  skies. 

Thus  often,  where  the  fram.uit  Minmi'  i  i<>\t  s 

Thessalian  groves, 
And  wind-swept  isles  of  beauty  nightly  sigh 

Sweet  elegy  ; 
And  lovers "^  vows  grew  rapturous,  as  *hey  heard, 

Listening  the  bird  ; 


THE    NIGHTINGALE. 

So  could  the  solemn  song  enchant  the  sense 

To  joy  intense  ; 
And  Grief's  sad  heart,  by  that  ^olian  strain, 

Rapt  of  its  pain, 
Forgot  the  memory  of  its  midnight  tears 

And  wasting  years. 

There,  under  bowers  and  wreathed  canopies 

Of  moonlit  trees, 
And  starry  constellations  gleaming  through 

The  twilight  dew, 
The  poet's  heart  in  that  delicious  stream 

Bathed  every  dream. 
And  thence  some  hue  of  heaven  his  fancy  stole. 

With  music's  soul ; 
And  the  deep  measure,  loaded  with  such  freight, 

Floated  elate  ; 
Far  o'er  the  worldly  way  and  common  haunt 

Swelled  the  clear  chant, 
Like  the  first  bird  that,  ere  the  day  is  born. 

Mounts  to  the  morn. 
Leaves  night  below,  and  catches,  as  she  springs, 

Heaven  on  her  wings. 


THE    NIGHTINGALE. 

Oh  for  a  vintage  dniuglit,  full-fraught  like  this, 

To  meet  my  kiss, 
Filled  to  the  hlushing  brim  with  dreams  of  old 

And  huhhling  gold  ! 
Some  breath  of  voice  divine,  or  chorded  shell, 

Of  golden  spell, 
Tlial  to  the  longirig  soul  responds  and  clings, 

And  gives  it  wings ; 
Or  such  (1(M  j)  minstrelsies,  oh  nigljtingalc. 

As  thy  lorn  wail  ; 
That  fill  the  minstrt'l-hcart,  till  raptures  make 

The  luart- strings  break, 
Hrcatlung  life  out  in  tin-  long  melody 

Of  one  sweet  sigli. 


THE   MAYFLOWER. 

Sweet  as  the  honored  name 
Their  storm-tossed  shallop  bore, 

The  memory  of  our  fathers'  fame, 
And  green  forevermore. 

Peace  to  their  hallowed  graves, 

That  consecrate  the  ground, 
Where  first  a  refuge  from  the  waves 

Their  pilgrim  footsteps  found. 

What  mortal  sighs  and  tears 

Swelled  on  that  wintry  sod  ! 
How  cast  they  all  their  cares  and  fears 

And  eveiy  hope  on  God ! 

And  wild  as  winds,  that  sweep 

Along  the  savage  shore, 
Rose  thoughts  of  homes  beyond  the  deep, 

Their  pleasant  homes  no  more. 


THE    MAYFLOWER. 

But  grander  visions  greet 

Their  propliet-lighted  eyes, — 
They  trod  the  world  bcnoatli  tli^ir  feet, 

And  marchf'd  to  yt'in  tlic  skies. 

Triumphant  over  oartli, 

Faith,  tliat  tlicir  spirits  fed, 
BeanKMl,  likr*  a  gem  of  priceless  worth, 

On  each  uplifted  iiead. 

No  flaming  sign  they  sought 

To  light  their  venturous  rtiad, 
They  owned  the  unseen  \h\iu\  that  wrought, 

And  in  His  strengtii  abode. 

But  to  their  souls'  desire, — 

Tiiough  dark  to  mortal  view, — 

The  daily  cloud  and  nightly  lire 
Shone,  clear  as  Jacob  knew. 

Vain  doubt,  and  fear,  and  care, 

The  desert  and  the  flood, — 
Tliey  knew  the  God  they  served  was  there, 

And  in  His  name  tliey  stood. 


10  THE    MAYFLOWER. 

Thoughts,  more  than  human  great, 
Came  to  their  spirits'  call ; 

And  thus  they  built  the  stable  State, 
In  Him,  their  hope,  their  all. 

And  far  as  rolls  the  swell 
Of  Time's  returnless  sea, 

Where  empires  rise  and  nations  dwell. 
Their  Pilgrim  fame  shall  be  ! 


1{LNKj:ii  hill,  jlm:  it. 

Hill,  on  whose  green,  eternal  crest, 
Tlie  lifted  granite  stands  sublime, 
Memorial  of  their  lionored  rest, 
The  heroes  of  an  elder  time  ; 
Our  rustic  sires,  —  who  from  the  j)lough 
Came  throni^ing  U)  thy  mossy  hrow, 
And  met  tin-  foeman's  sheeteil  llame, 
In  arms  for  Freedom's  holy  name  ! 

What  though  no  more  the  hrc«>7.o  of  June 
Bears  freighted,  on  its  summer  breath, 
The  whistling  bullet's  i\cTy  tune, — 

The  war-voice,  with  its  note  of  death, — 
Yet  be,  to-day,  tliy  myriad  cheers 
Like  echoes  of  thy  prouder  years. 
And  through  a  nation  stirring  roll 
The  spirit  of  thine  ancient  soul ! 


12  BUNKER    HILL,    JUNE    17. 

And  oh,  'mid  thoughts  of  selfish  fame, 

If  freemen's  hearts  no  more  are  bold, 
And,  sinkhig  to  his  country's  shame, 

The  patriot's  fire  burns  low  and  cold, — 
What  thought  like  thine,  —  a  world's  renown, 
To  bid  him  snatch  a  generous  crown, 
And  wake  to  life  the  freeman's  will 
'Mid  the  old  fires  of  Bunker-hill ! 


THE  AMERICAN   ENSIGN. 

One  morn,  whon  orient  boams  were  bright, 

Just  rising  on  the  wakened  worM, 
I  saw  our  flag  of  glorious  light 

Its  roll  of  beauty  wave  unfurled. 
High  blazed  in  air  the  flaming  fold 
And  starry  azure  to  the  hn^eze, 
Triuiii[)li.iut  as  u'cr  fields  of  old 
And  victor  on  the  conquered  seas. 
Ecfidgent  thus  in  morning's  my, 

Mcthought  that  standard  still  should  swecj) 
Pour  on  oI<l  lands  a  ncw-honi  dav, 

And  freight  with  freedom  ;ill  the  deep. 

But  soon,  descending  on  the  morn, 

Some  lurid  cloud  embattled  flew, 
Rent  the  wild  skies,  by  thunders  torn. 

And  all  its  gathered  deluije  threw: 


14  THE    AMERICAN    ENSIGN. 

Still,  as  in  battle's  fiery  front, 

I  saw  my  country's  flag  unrolled 
Meet  the  dread  storm's  impetuous  brunt, 
And  fling  the  tempest  from  its  fold. 

And  thus,  methought,  though  factions  rage, 

That  glorious  standard  still  shall  wave, 
Hope  of  the  world,  through  age  on  age, 
And  only  sink  in  Freedom's  grave ! 


OUR  COUNTRY.* 

'  (Jl'r  country  !  riglit  or  wrong,'  — 

Wliat  manly  heart  can  doubt 
Tliat  tlius  sliould  swell  tlic  patriot  song, 

Thus  ring  lh(;  patriot  shout  ? 
Be  hut  the  foe  arniycd, 

Ami  war'^  wild  trumpet  blown, — 
Cold  were  his  heart,  who  has  not  made 

Ilis  country's  cause  his  own  ! 

Though  faction  rule  the  halls, 

Where  nobler  thoughts  have  swayed, 

One  sacred  voice  forever  calls 
The  patriot's  heart  and  blade  ; 


*  <Uir  Country,  always  to  be  defended,  though  our  country 
men  may  I'O  often  in  the  wrong. 


16  OUR    COUNTRY. 

He,  at  his  counfrij''s  name, 
Feels  every  pulse  beat  high, 

Wreathes  round  her  glory  all  his  fame 
And  loves  for  her  to  die  ! 

Where'er  her  flag  unrolled 

Wooes  the  saluting  breeze, 
Flings  o'er  the  plain  its  starry  fold, 

Or  floats  on  stormy  seas,  — 
All  dearest  things  are  there, 

All  that  makes  life  divine, 
Home,  faith,  the  brave,  the  true,  the  fair, 

Cling  to  the  flaming  sign. 

Oh,  is  this  thought  a  dream  ? 

No,  —  by  the  gallant  dead, 
Who  sleep  by  hill  and  plain  and  stream. 

Or  deep  on  ocean's  bed  ! 
By  every  sacred  name, 

By  every  glorious  song. 
By  all  we  know  and  love  of  fame, — 

Our  Country,  —  right  or  wrong  ! 


REQUIEM  FOR  PRESIDENT  TAYLOR, 
BOSTON,  1S50. 

Enshrined  in  glory,  as  ilic  goiULii  W  est 

Receives  the  sinking  day-star  to  its  bed. 

So  sinks  the  patriot-hero  to  his  rest, 

And  countless  blessings  crown  his  honored  licad. 

'Mid  hostile  armies  and  exulting  strains, 
Ho  led  our  eagles  through  the  bristling  line, 
And  caiiK',  victorious,  from  his  battle-plains, 
To  lay  liis  trophies  on  his  countr^-'s  shrine. 

Hiscouirn\">  wi-in-s  uiiii'Mi  111.-  ji.iiriot-chief. 
And  mot  him  glorious  with  a  people's  trust. 
He  dies  !    And  mourning  with  a  people's  grief. 
They  weep  around  their  fatlicr's  sacred  dust. 
3 


18  REQUIE3I    FOR    PRESIDEXT    TAYLOR. 

Peace  be  with  him  ;  no  nobler  spirit  trod 
The  paths  of  greatness  to  a  hallowed  tomb, 
And  o'er  the  laurel-wreath,  that  decks  his  sod. 
In  fresher  green  eternal  olives  bloom. 

And  oh,  through  long-descending  years  to  come, 
Immortal  honors  shall  attend  his  name. 
His  country's  annals  be  his  memoiy's  home, 
And  unborn  nations  love  to  speak  his  fame. 


BUNKER   UlLL.  .U\r    i"     i^n. 

We've  been  up  the  ijmvc  old  hill,  brother, 

Where  our  fathers  went  before, 
And  their  gallant  spirit  still  was  there, 

Unbroken  as  of  yore  ; 
As  fresh  and  bright  the  good  t,,,,,  <^v  ,r.| 

And  summer's  golden  floe 
Swept,  .1^  (»f  old,  the  hallowed  ground. 

That  drank  our  fathers'  blood. 

We've  been  up  the  brave  old  hill,  brother, 

Where  many  a  year  a^o. 
Fresh  from  love's  parting  kiss  they  came. 

To  meet  the  gathering  foe  ; 
The  sheeted  flame  was  all  around. 

The  embattled  host  beneath, 
And  ringing  on  the  summer  air 

The  trumpet-voice  of  death. 


20  BUNKER    HILL. 

We  knew,  within  those  manly  breasts, 

Their  hearts  beat  stroni]^  and  high. 
For  home  and  country's  dearer  name 

They  stood,  to  save  or  die ; 
And,  true  to  every  burning  hope 

The  undying  spirit  craves. 
We  marked  their  path  through  toil  and  blood, 

And  blessed  our  fathers'  graves. 

And  myriads  thronged  the  steep  to-day, — 

The  bold,  —  the  true,  —  the  fair,  — 
The  soft  breeze  played  with  youth's  bright  locks. 

And  age's  reverend  hair ; 
There  was  many  a  form  in  manhood's  prime. 

With  heart  as  staunch  and  tried, 
As  the  hearts  that  slept  beneath  their  feet, 

On  the  green  hill's  pleasant  side. 

From  the  broad  land's  utmost  verge  they  came. 
With  a  shout  like  the  forest's  roar. 

From  the  lonely  vale  in  the  mountain's  breast, 
And  homes  by  the  sea-beat  shore  ; 


BUNKER    HILL.  21 

InMi  iiMii  Iniiii  tin-  iro/.tn  .\(Mtii, 

And  sons  of  tbc  ocean-isle,  — 
From  the  Western  wild-wood's  primal  L'l<»'>m, 

And  the  sweet  South's  sunny  smih  . 

We  stood  on  the  hrave  old  hill,  hnilhr-r, 

In  the  strength  of  a  lioly  namo, 
And  huriiing  thoughts  upon  our  hearts 

Hrokc  out  in  words  of  flame  ; 
'  Free  be  the  blood-bought  field,'  we  cried, 

*  Free  as  the  broad  blue  sky  ! ' 
And  spirit-voices  seemed  to  say, 

^  Still  keep  it  free,  or  die  ! ' 


THE  EMPEROR'S  FUNERAL. 

And  rolled  in  light  the  silver  Seine 

Through  festal  banks  its  flowery  way, — 
Shall  not  an  Empire's  choral  strain 

Hail  the  triumphal  clay  ? 
He  comes,  —  and  drooped  on  ocean's  foam 

His  lilied  banner  waves  unfurled, 
Comes,  from  his  sea-beat  island,  home, 

The  victor  of  a  world  ; 
Falls,  far  away,  the  chanting  surge, 
Like  echoes  of  a  muttered  dirge. 

'Tis  He,  who  gave  the  nations  law. 

While  subject  kings  around  him  bowed, — 

Nor  hushed,  as  now,  in  breathless  awe, 
Stood  the  gay  city's  crowd ; 

Not  then  was  heard  this  minute-swell 
From  sullen  throats  of  iron  tone, 


THE    emperor's    11.,  ,.,.al.  23 

Nor  then  Notre-Dame's  funereal  bell 

CJave  voice  to  such  a  moan ; 
Nor  rose  between,  these  notes  that  flow, 
Like  airy  wailings,  full  of  woe. 

He  comes,  the  uiiiiinn  cikki  m    lamo, 

Who  made  a  hundred  fichls  his  own, 
And  sprang,  on  conquest's  wings  of  flame, 

To  liis  delirious  throne  ! 
Oh,  if  reluctant  Fate  had  given 

His  youthful  «  ye  some  prophet-view, 
'Mid  tlu-  wild  Sections'  crashing  levin, — 

Of  fatal  Watrrloo,— 
Silent,  perchance,  these  spirit  tones 
Of  stiflrd    1  ■•-  '-  ■  nnd  mufllcd  groans! 

Tis  II.',  ih.'  Man  of  Destiny! 

Whose  cohorts  princes  proudly  led, 
Where'er  he  hade  his  eagles  fly. 

Above  the  slaughtered  dead  ; 
To  the  same  heartless  purpose  true. 

That  claimed  earth's  empires  for  his  own. 


*^4  THE    E3IPER0k's    FUNERAL. 

In  the  bright  halls  of  sweet  St.  Cloud, 

On  Elba's  mimic  throne  ; 
What  greetings  these,  whose  sound  of  fear 
Breaks  the  dread  silence  of  his  bier ! 

From  sands,  Vvhere  marble  music  sings 

A  song  to  morning's  orient  lids, 
And  lines  of  long-forgotten  kings 

Built  nameless  pyramids  ; 
From  cliffs,  where  but  the  Tyrol  horn 

Had  roused  the  freeman's  hunter-band. 
To  meads,  whose  flowery  breath  is  borne 

Along  the  Cesar's  land, — 
Come  shadowy  voices  on  the  gale, 
Of  mountain-shout  and  sobbing  wail. 

Oh,  once  he  came,  on  triumph's  breath, 
From  soft  Italia's  myrtle  bowers, 

And  once,  from  fields  of  icy  death. 
By  Moscow's  blazing  towers ; 

And  once  again,  from  Belgium's  plain. 
That  groaned  with  its  uncounted  dead, 


And  left  liis  eagles,  with  its  slain, 

Trampled  and  slaughter-red ; 
Now,  Beresina's  shrieking  waves 
Tlail  AW'iterloo's  re-opening  graves! 

He  coiiK  >  tiiicc  more,  —  the  suli-  n  mam 

Restores  him  from  his  lonely  ceil. 
To  sleep,  where  laves  the  silver  Seine 

That  France  he  loved  so  well ; 
lie  conirs,  —  and  all  his  stormy  life, 

Whose  sun  was  quenched  in  clouds  and  gloom. 
No  triumpli  hought,  through  ficrj*  strife, 

Like  that  which  gilds  his  lomh ! 
This  mockery  of  a  fickle  breath 
Cijantini^  unnv ••-  hymns  to  Dniih  ! 

'^  «l  where  his  pageant's  ancient  soul  ? 

Sons  of  St.  Louis  !  wherefore  here  ? 
I'\ir  other  tones  of  woe  should  roll      ' 

Above  'tlic  Emperor's'  bier! 
Oh  where  Massena,  Lannes,  Dessaix, 

Through  battle's  cloud  each  flaming  star  ? 


26  THE  ebipekor's  funeral. 

He,  braver  than  the  bravest,  Ney, — 

Thy  snow-white  plume,  Murat? 
I  see,  I  see,  on  either  hand 
They  come,  they  weep,  a  shadowy  band  ! 

Ah  yes,  Notre-Dame  !  thy  pomp  were  dull 

And  strange,  if  such  were  wanting  there, 
Thy  peopled  courts  are  not  so  full 

As  is  the  peopled  air  ! 
From  sands  and  crags  and  rolling  streams, 

From  gory  plains  and  seas  of  storms. 
Rise,  like  the  thronging  shapes  of  dreams, 

Their  gashed  and  grisly  forms  I 
And  He  !  'tis  He,  whose  icy  eye 
Glares  on  the  painted  pageantry  ! 

Oh,  could  he  call  one  moment  back 
The  flush  of  his  adventurous  youth, — 

Snatch,  from  the  stain  of  glory's  track, 
His  heart's  first  idol.  Truth  ! 

Clasp  closer  still  the  Passion-flower 

He  spurned  from  his  unmanly  breast, — 


THE  emperor's  FUNERAL.  27 

Away,  false  dreams  of  fruitless  power! 

And  earth  had  been  at  rest ;  — 
Nor  hollow  lies,  nor  pomp's  cold  tear, 
Nor  man,  nor  fiend  had  mocked  his  bier ! 


THE  FRIENDS. 

My  neighbor  John  died  yesternight, 
His  happy  spirit  took  its  flight, 
With  eveiy  omen  good  and  bright 

Its  transit  hailing ; 
No  summer  leaf  more  sofdy  shed, 
No  murmur  o'er  a  floweiy  bed 
More  gently  breathed,  than  when  he  fled, 

And  left  us  wailing. 

As  boys,  we  oft  together  played, 

Where  flowers  were  briglitest,  there  we  strayed, 

Or  stretched  beneath  the  elm-tree  shade 

At  noonday  lying ; 
The  life  behind  us  was  a  dream. 
Before,  a  stern  and  ruffled  stream, — 
Our  souls  in  fancy  there  would  seem 

With  struggles  plying. 


THE    FRIENDS. 

And  I,  indeed,  a  stormy  life, 
With  more  than  youth  could  fan. 
In  toil  and  sorrow,  fear  and  strife, 

Have  ave  been  ranKing: 
But  neighbor  John,  no  floweret  wild 
For  danger's  steep,  but  soft  and  mild. 
Forever  has  remained  a  child, 

In  heart  unchanginjj. 

Too  good  to  feel  life's  fiercer  pant, 
No  wild  desires  such  heart  could  haunt, 
Nor  thwarted  hope  his  purpose  daunt, 
A  simple  liv 

Rut  just  enough,  his  .  .Mi-.^mi  jiia\.  r. 
For  his  and  for  his  neighbor's  shan*, — 
The  poor  man  felt  his  cheerful  care, 
And  blest  the  giver. 

His  life,  a  calm  and  quiet  sway, 
Old  age's  welcome  urged  his  stay, 
And  childhood  gladly  left  its  play 
For  his  caressing ; 


no  THE    FRIENDS. 

Where'er  he  took  his  fireside  place, 
A  smile  illumined  every  face, 
And  thus  he  ran  his  daily  race, 
A  daily  blessing. 

He  saw  the  world,  a  phantom-show, 
In  mad  pursuit  of  nothings  go, 
Shifting  and  changing,  high  and  low, 

A  hurly-burly ; 
And  sought  betimes  that  better  part, 
To  raise  his  mind  and  school  his  heart, 
Heaven's  way  to  win  his  only  art, 

He  found  it  early. 

And  I,  that  o'er  the  dreary  main, 

My  childhood's  home  have  sought  in  vain. 

My  ancient  friend's  old  grasp  again 

I  welcomed  gladly; 
But  gone  so  soon,  alone  I  trace, 
And  vacant,  each  familiar  place, 
I  mark,  alas,  each  stranger  face. 

And  miss  him  sadly. 


THE    WIXD. 

The  W  iiui  ijas  voices,  that  defy 
The  spirit's  utmost  scrutiny  ; 
Wc  shudder  at  its  sobhinrr  wail, 
And  shrink,  when  howls  the  rolling  gale, 
And  .  veil  its  softest  breath  is  heard, 
Like  so.ne  half-muttered  saddening  word 
Of  all  iis  tones,  there  is  no  voice 
That  bids  the  thrilling  heart  rejoice. 

The  sailor,  on  the  silent  seas, 
May  long  to  hail  the  freshening  breeze ; 
The  blas%  that  hurls  the  spattered  foam, 
Will  waft  him  to  his  distant  home; 
Vet  while  the  loosening  sail  he  flinrrs, 
That  gives  his  floating  bird  its  wings. 
His  manly  breast  will  often  feel 
Some  strange,  dread  fancy  oVr  it  steal. 


32  THE    WIND. 

When  crouched  beside  the  wintry  blaze, 
And  midnight  sings  its  wonted  lays, 
The  music  of  the  minHino;  tune, 
Now  rising  high  and  falling  soon, — 
The  wailing  and  complaining  tone 
Might  be  a  laugh,  though  more  a  moan, — 
But  wild,  or  sad,  or  high,  or  low. 
It  ever  takes  a  note  of  woe. 

I've  seen  it  stir  the  nested  rills 

Amid  the  topmost  Crystal  Hills, 

Have  watched  it  drive  the  clashing  clouds, 

And  shriek  along  the  shaken  shrouds, — 

Dread !  strange  !  the  same,  in  every  hour, 

Resistless,  formless,  unseen  power ! 

A  voice,  that  gives  us  no  reply, 

A  sound  that  shakes,  we  know  not  why. 

I  never  hear  it  on  the  shore, 
Concerted  with  the  watery  roar. 
Or  sweeping,  where  the  sullen  breeze, 
Glides,  like  a  spirit,  through  the  trees. 


THK    WIND.  3'1 

Nor  listen  to  its  mustering  wail, 
When  wintry  tempests  swell  the  gale, 
But  haunting  fancies,  dark  ami  wild, 
Rrood  like  the  dreams,  tliat  daunt  a  child. 

Yet  not  the  less,  my  battling  soul 
Springs,  like  a  racer,  to  its  goal  ; 
Can  wring  a  joy,  that  else  were  pain, 
When  singing  blasts  cry  oVr  the  main. 
Hear  music,  in  the  mournful  tune, 
That  softens  on  the  gales  of  June, 
And  gather,  from  the  fire-side  tone, 
A  sad,  sweet  language,  all  its  own. 


THE  POOR  MAN. 

*' PLATE   SIN   WITH   GOLD,"    ETC. 

The  world  without  is  cold,  dearest, 

Nor  heeds  what  we  endure, 
The  hearts  that  dance  in  lighted  halls 

Care  little  for  the  poor ; 
Some  transient  thought,  some  passing  sigh, 

Their  well-bred  pity  knows, 
But  tears,  that  dim  the  sparkling  eye. 

Are  shed  for  unfelt  woes. 

The  proud  one  wraps  his  fur,  dearest, 

Around  his  muffled  form, 
And  scarce  the  poor  man's  scanty  garb 

Can  shield  him  from  the  storm  ; 
They  meet  upon  God's  common  earth, 

Beneath  the  same  blue  sky. 
As  ice  to  ice  in  Polar  seas, 

Each  brother's  kindred  eye. 


35 


By  Cairo's  lordly  towers,  dearest, 

Or  on  the  desert  waste, 
The  Araf)  sj)reads  his  food  and  asks 

Tlic  passe  r-hy  to  taste  ; 
But  what  arc  spires  that  point  to  lieaven, 

And  every  formal  prayer. 
If  hearts  arc  dead  to  human  h»vc, 

Nor  own  a  l>rothcr'8  care  ? 

Oi),  many  a  chariot  rolls,  dearest, 

Alon<^  tln'  rattling  stones, 
WIjosc  wlieels  with  every  echo  tell 

Some  wretched  creature's  groans; 
The  poor  num  must  he  honest. 

Who  loses  or  who  wins, — 
No  gilded  veil,  to  cheat  the  crowd, 

Conceals  the  poor  man's  sins. 

But  envy  liaunts  nn-  not,  dearest, 

To  tread  the  lialis  of  jiride. 
The  poor  man's  heart  has  many  a  thought 

Worth  all  th(.'  world  beside  ; 


THE    POOR    MAN. 

And  oft  he  shares  his  little  all, 
Or  shields  the  houseless  one, 

While  lords  of  useless  thousands  sleep, 
No  daily  mercy  done. 

We  walk  in  shadows  here,  dearest, 

Nor  pierce  through  all  the  show, 
But  heaven  still  flings  its  blue  above, 

And  spreads  its  green  below ; 
And  demon  forms  may  scowling  stand, 

For  gilded  vice  to  wait. 
While  angel  hosts  encamp  around 

The  beggar  in  the  gate. 

And  though  my  life  is  toil,  dearest, 

For  thine  and  baby's  fare, 
There 's  One,  who  hears  the  ravens  cry, 

To  make  us  still  His  care  ; 
Of  this  be  sure,  he  most  is  poor, 

Were  boundless  wealth  his  own. 
And  unforgiven  of  earth  or  heaven. 

Who  lives  for  self  alone. 


CALIGULA.  1 

The  Pagnn  from  his  gorgeous  bed, 

or  wroughtcn  ivory  chased  with  gohl, 
Bewildered,  raised  liis  restless  head, 

When  heart  and  life  were  growing  old  ; 
The  cruel  dream,  that  fired  his  youth, 

And  led  thr   Man,  —  a  faded  thing, — 
And  tlirougli  liie  wreck  the  spectre,  Truth, 

Naked  by  life's  exhausted  spring. 

At  midnight  througli  his  echoing  lialls 
The  purple  mocker\'  well  might  grope, 

And  hear  his  footsteps  languid  falls 
Announce  despair,  but  never  hope  ! 

'  Incitabatur  insomnia  maxime  ;  neque  cniin  plusquam  tribus 
nocturnis  horis  quiesccbat  ;  ac  nun  his  quidem  placida  quiete, 
sed  pavida  niiris  rorum  iniaginibus ;  ut  qui,  inter  cetcras, 
Pelagi  qu.odam  srECiEM  coUoqueutem  secum  videre  visus  sit. 

SuETO.MUS,  in  vit.  Calit,'. 


38  CALIGULA. 

Oh,  could  he  find,  what  never  came, 
Some  boundless  Lethe's  generous  flood, 

To  slake  his  heart's  infuriate  flame, 
And  wash  his  ocean-stain  of  blood ! 

And  vassal  guards,  that  shrank  and  cowered, 

To  meet  their  master's  haggard  eye, 
And  shook,  as  if  a  demon  lowered, 

When  'twas  the  Cesar  tottered  by  ! 
His  golden  state,  —  his  circled  head, — 

The  pangs,  that  wrung  the  stifling  groan, — 
"What  slave  would  press  his  guilty  bed, 

To  call  the  Roman's  world  his  own  ? 

Oblivion  !  'twere  the  dearest  word. 

That  ever  blessed  prophetic  strain  ; 
Be  once  those  cooling  waters  poured, 

The  "Cesar  were  himself  again  ! 
But  no !    Dark  lord  of  dreaded  power  ! 

Whom  long  his  prophet-heart  has  warned. 
Oblivion  were  too  sweet  a  dower. 

From  angry  gods  he  feared  and  scorned. 


CALIGULA.  39 

Tho  Thracian,  on  tliat  marblcMl  floor, 

In  weary  slumbers  sweet  and  deep, 
Roams  o'«r  his  wastes,  a  slave  no  more, — 

Wliat  dreams  disturb  an  Emperor's  sleep  ? 
Resistless  sway  is  all  his  own, 

His  own  the  globe's  supreme  command, 
And  thrills  through  earth's  remotr'st  zone 

The  menace  of  his  lifted  hand. 

Some  deep  impending  woe  must  shake 

Tho  heart  Ixiicath  that  j)urple  pall ! 
Do  hosts  the  Roman  slumbenrs  wak<', 

(!<)th,  Vandal,  Hun,  or  grisly  (iaul  ? 
No,  Rome  still  sleeps,  and  all  the  world 

Yet  pulsates  with  her  mighty  heart, — 
Round  him  alone  the  shadow  furled, 

Tho  Cesar's  own  peculiar  part ! 

An<l  there  he  glides,  a  livid  thing, 

Pal(\  i!;larin*T   feeble,  feariui;,  feared, — 

Oh  say,  what  Furies  round  hini  ding, 
This  new  Orestes,  phantom-scared  ! 


40  CALIGULA. 

'The  Sea,  —  the  Sea!'  wild,  deep  and  drear, 
Dim,  dread,  mysterious,  undefined, 

The  Image  of  a  formless  fear, 

A  waste,  void  Horror  —  shakes  his  mind  ! 

Ah  conscience  !  though  the  voiceless  doom 

No  Roman  seer  might  dare  to  tell, 
The  boding  of  that  unknown  gloom, 

The  fountain  of  thy  living  hell ! 
'Twas  Blood!  thou  guilty  creature,  Blood! 

The  coming  of  an  endless  dread. 
The  swell  of  that  relentless  flood. 

The  PURPLE  Sea  thv  hands  had  shed ! 


HARVEST  ODE. 

In  el«i'r  (lays  ami  softer  dimes, 

Beneatli  the  reign  of  Jove, 
When  Oreatls  peopled  ever)'  hill, 

And  Drjads  filled  the  grove. 
Oft  as  the  fields,  in  ri|>ened  charms, 

The  Autumn  suns  imbrowncd, 
To  rustic  Pan  the  simple  swains 

Their  votive  altars  crowned. 

And  old  and  young  alike,  befurc 

The  verdant  shrines  apj)ear. 
With  blushinji  flowers  and  "olden  fruits. 

That  blessed  the  closing  year  ; 
With  wreaths  and  chaplets  girt  around, 

The  long  procession  came, 
And  swelling  pipes  and  vocal  joy 

The  harvest-hour  proclaim. 


42  HARVEST    ODE. 

Yet  vainly  rose  the  flowery  turf, 

And  vainly  pipe  and  song 
Led  gayly  on  the  moonlit  dance, 

The  festal  hours  along  ; 
For  kindly  summer's  ripening  beam 

And  showers  of  gentle  rain, 
To  false  and  fabled  gods  they  raised 

Their  hearts  and  hands  in  vain. 

But  we  with  Truth's  enlightened  eyes 

Behold  the  ample  store, 
While  every  whispered  hope  has  swelled 

To  perfect  joy  once  more  ; 
With  nobler  homage  bless  the  Power, 

Whose  bounty  fills  the  board, 
And  praise  with  every  grateful  song 

The  Universal  Lord ! 

Not  theirs,  alas,  the  glorious  thoughts, 
That  range  above  the  sky, 

'  Come,  let  us  eat  and  drink,'  they  said, 
'  To-morrow  shall  we  die  : ' 


ITVPvivT    ODE.  43 

For  us,  in  r  very  golden  slicaf 

And  glittering  flower,  is  given 
The  symbol  of  immortal  hopes, 

Beyond  the  bending  Heaven. 

Then  oh,  as  each  returning  year 

With  clustering  fruits  is  crowned, 
And  Hushed  with  joy  the  smiling  land 

In  beauty  brightens  round, 
With  grateful  hearts  and  honors  loud, 

His  jiraisrs  let  us  own, 
Whose  endh'ss  goodness  lives  for  us, 

Kt'Tual  as  IIi^  throne. 


ODE,  SUNG  AT  CAMBRIDGE,  1S52 


1. 

Beneath  these  shades,  whose  hallowed  fame 

All  generous  thoughts  revere  ! 
Within  these  Halls,  of  many  a  name 

To  hope  and  memory  dear  ; 
Be  thus,  by  meeting  hearts  and  hands, 

One  fresher  garland  twined 
Round  sacred  Learning's  gathered  bands. 

To  mingle  mind  with  mind. 

2. 

The  sage's  lonely  lamp  might  shine, 

And  in  its  light  expire  ; 
And  burning  word  or  thought  divine 

Might  perish  in  their  fire  ; 


ODE.  45 

But  cauglit  from  kindling  soul  to  soul, 

The  flames  effulgent  spread, 
And  clasp  in  one  immortal  whole 

The  liviu::^  and  the  dead. 

3. 

These  brooding  cares  that  round  us  rise. 

And  Life,  foredoomed  to  toils, 
Catch  half  a  grace  from  social  ties, 

And  live  in  genial  smiles ; 
And  still  when  Wisdom  lifts  her  brow, 

Encrowned  with  flowery  wreaths, 
Then  gleams  her  spirit's  purest  glow, — 

Her  noblest  purpose  breathes. 

4. 
Within  the  bosom's  secret  shrine 

Immortal  visions  sleep. 
Like  gems  that  light  the  sullen  mine. 

Or  pearls  that  strew  the  deep  ; 
But  touched  to  life  by  kindn'd  art, 

The  burning  accents  roll, — 
Senate  and  Forum  feel  a  heart, 

And  nations  own  a  soul ! 


HARVEST  ODE. 

When  erst,  by  Eden's  guarded  gate, 

The  parents  of  our  race 
Reviewed  the  darkening  prospect  spread 

O'er  Nature's  unknown  face  ; 
Though  all  was  lost,  that  crowned  before 

The  Garden's  glowing  soil. 
Earth  blessed  our  mother's  fostering:  care, 

Our  father's  manly  toil. 

But  simple  thoughts  and  frugal  wants 

Their  pastoral  days  revealed, 
Who  drove  the  plough,  by  Tubal  wrought, 

Across  the  primal  field  ; 
Content,  if  seed-time's  vernal  hope 

And  harvest's  jocund  soil 
Repaid  our  mother's  fostering  care, 

Our  father's  manly  toil. 


HARVEST    ODE.  47 

Tiic  Ages  roll,  —  llic  nations  fade,  — 

Till  EartlTs  primeval  plain, 
rngratefnl,  clasps  the  golden  sun, 

And  drinks  the  sdvery  rain; 
Hilt  distant  wilds  have  learned  to  bloom, 

Like  Nature's  virgin  soil, 
That  cheered  our  mother^s  fostering'  ran  . 

Our  father's  manly  toil. 

Yes,  harron  fields,  that  once  but  owned 

Some  desert-rover's  tread, 
(How,  blushing  with  the  summer  rose, 

Or  bear  the  bounteous  bread  ; 
And  there  we  bless  the  fruits  and  flowers. 

Such  as  EartlTs  natal  soil 
First  gave  our  njother's  fostering  care, 

Our  father's  manly  toil. 

For  kiiniling  Art,  from  distant  lands, 

And  isles  that  gem  the  niain, 
lAixuriant  Idends  their  mingling  stores, 

To  gladden  all  the  jilain  ; 


48  HARVEST    ODE. 

Till  fields  grow  bright  like  Eden's  bowers, 

Before  the  untried  soil 
Had  claimed  our  mother's  fostering  care, 

Our  father's  manly  toil. 

And  thus  let  Art  and  Labor's  train 

Their  glorious  course  pursue, 
And  blade,  and  ear,  and  perfect  corn 

The  rolling  year  renew ; 
And  all  the  curse  a  blessing  prove, 

That  made  Earth's  primal  soil 
Require  our  mother's  fostering  care, 

Our  father's  manly  toil. 


HARVEST  SONG. 

Once  more  amidst  the  liarvost  fields 

By  Autumn's  sun  imbrowncd. 
With  flowers  and  fruits  and  gold.-n  gran; 

In  rieh  luxuriance  crowned  ; 
Behind  our  steps  the  Summer  fades, 

Before  our  eyes  appear 
Tlio  rij»cii((l  hius,  whose  deeper  glow 

Bedecks  the  closing  year. 

Once  more  we've  seen  the  geiiial  Earth 
Fling  Winter  from  her  arms, 

For  us  unfold  her  mighty  heart, 
And  give  us  all  her  charms ; 

And  where  we  met  the  summer  sun 
Amidst  the  blaze  of  June, 

We  gather  Nature's  treasured  stores. 

Beneath  the  harvest  moon. 
4 


50  HARVEST    SONG. 

Soon  will  the  forest-leaves  lie  strown 

And  withered  all  around, 
And  voices  of  the  coming  storm 

Sweep  o'er  the  naked  ground  ; 
The  birds,  that  cheered  the  living  air, 

On  wonted  wing  will  fly- 
Where  softer  suns  the  fields  renew, 

To  seek  another  sky. 

Yet,  while  the  circling  seasons  change, 

And  each  resumes  its  reign. 
Not  ours  with  saddened  thought  to  mark 

The  year's  departing  train ; 
When  hope  that  flushed  the  vernal  hour 

Completed  joy  becomes, 
And  plenty  spreads  her  ample  board 

In  glad  and  grateful  homes. 

Like  men,  we  met  our  honest  toils, 
Beneath  the  glowing  morn, 

Like  men,  we  bore  the  fervid  noon, 
Amidst  the  bending  corn  ;   - 


HARVEST    SONG.  51 

And  now  our  hearts,  with  thankful  songs, 
Would  own  the  bounteous  Power, 

Whose  goodness  warmed  the  ripening  sun. 
And  blessed  the  kindly  shower. 

And  still,  beneath  thy  fusicring  hand, 

To  seek  thy  gracious  care, 
May  we  and  ours,  to  endless  years, 

Within  thy  courts  repair; 
Thine  are  our  licKls  and  flocks  and  herds, 

And  all  that  crowns  our  days. 
And  still  to  Thee,  Almighty  Lord, 

Eternal  be  the  praise. 


LINES  WRITTEN  IN  A  COMMONPLACE  BOOK. 

Oh,  sweet  and  gentle  maiden, 

At  life's  enchanting  age, 
I  glance  along  thy  gathered  stores, 

Upon  the  thoughtful  page  ; 
Fair  records  of  immortal  minds, 

Whose  burning  words  unfold 
Our  struggling  souls'  emotions. 

Which  else  were  all  untold. 
And  I  *  an  old  diviner,' 

As  I  read  the  written  line. 
See  upon  it  and  beneath  it, — 

Shall  I  tell  what  I  divine  ? 

Listen  then,  oh  fairest  maiden. 
How  from  signs  I  gather  truth, 

How  I  read  the  page  before  me, 
And  construe  of  thy  youth. 


LINES    WRITTEN    IN    A    COMMONPLArE    BOOK.         53 

Something  of  a  restless  spirit. 

Quickly  moved  to  smiles  and  tears, 
But  beneath  are  brooding  fancies, 

All  too  sad  for  brightening  years ; 
Thought,  beyond  thy  girlhood's  seeming. 

Heart,  like  morning's  purest  dew, 
And  a  soul,  that  seeks  communion 

With  the  generous,  bold,  and  true. 
Brimming  full  life's  morning  chalice, 

Yet,  within  the  gilded  round, 
Bubbling  lip  immortal  longings 

For  what  earth  has  never  found  ! 

Vet,  though  no  cloud  lias  gathered 

Its  shadows  on  thy  heart, 
Nor  mortal  sorrow  made  its(  If 

Of  all  thy  life  a  part  ; 
Though  hopes  and  joys  surround  thee. 

And  on  thy  summer  hours 
The  smiles  of  home  and  friendship  fall, 

Like  sunlight  shed  on  flowers ; 


54        LINES    WRITTEN    IN    A    COMMONPLACE    BOOK. 

Yet  better  thus,  believe  me, 

Before  the  shadows  come. 
This  softer,  sadder,  inward  light 

Around  thy  spirit's  home  ; 
For  this,  when  smiles  are  fading, 

And  earthly  hopes  decay, 
Glows  brighter,  through  the  darkest  night, 

And  cheers  the  roughest  day ; 
Spreads  through  the  soul  a  sober  joy, 

As  earthborn  pleasure  flies, 
A  gleam  of  kindred  heaven. 

An  earnest  of  the  skies  ! 


JENXV   LLM). 

Whence  coin'st  tliou,  Jenny  Lind, 

Looking  thus  unkitliM,  unkinnM 

With  the  crowd  «»f  common  natures, — 

But  away,  with  higlier  creatures, 

Claiming,  somewhere,  loftier  hirth, 

'Twixt  the  hravcn  and  the  earth? 

Spirit,  —  soul, —  voice,  —  hrcath,  —  oh  say 

An  thou  inadc  of  coumion  clay  ? 

Soul,  of  Music's  holiest  tone, 

Voice,  from  realms  to  earth  unknown, 

Spirit,  gushing  through  all  hound, 

Breath,  that  faints  in  niellow  sound, — 

By  what  mortal  nomenclature 

Shall  we  call  thee,  glorious  creature ! 

Like  far-olF  notes,  scarce  heard. 
Of  midnight's  sad  sweet  hird  ; 


56  JENNY    LIND. 

Like  sighs,  that  fall  on  flowers, 
In  summer's  moonlight  bowers  ; 
Like  the  wild-enchantment,  born 
•  Of  the  echo-wafting  horn ; 
Like  the  lark's  song,  as  she  springs, 
On  her  day-saluting  wings;  — 
Sweet,  oh  sweet  these  melodies, 
Fit  to  link  us  with  the  skies ; 
But  which,  like  thine,  can  give 
Soul-thoughts  to  souls  that  live  ? 
Till  each  feels,  within  his  breast, 
'T  is  the  tone  he  laves  the  best ; 
Like  a  joy,  that  would  be  sad, 
Like  a  pain,  oh,  almost  glad. 
So,  through  the  breast  and  brain. 
Thrills  the  heart-o'erladen  strain. 
And  the  vanquished  soul  hath  known 
Triumph,  —  rapture,  —  in  a  tone  ; 
And  the  spirit,  all  subdued 
By  the  chantress  to  her  mood. 
Wakes  at  length,  with  wild  surprise, 
From  a  vision  of  the  skies ; 


JENNY   LIND.  57 


And  the  soul  comes  linCTerinor  back 
From  some  long-forgotten  track  ; 
And  plaudits  long  and  loud 
Burst  from  out  the  busy  crowd ; 
And  the  common  beam,  once  more, 
Flits  along  the  chequered  floor  ;  — 
But  that  pale,  pale  face,  so  bright, 
And  those  eyes'  unearthly  light, 
And  the  deep,  enchanting  tone. 
All  have  been,  —  and  all  are  gone  ! 

Then  sing,  sweet  Jenny  Lind  ! 
Like  the  wooing  evening  wind, 
When  it  meets  the  chorded  strings, 
And  the  changeful  music  rings ; 
Oh,  be  still,  as  now  thou  art, 
Sovereign  mistress  of  the  heart ; 
To  this  world  of  sin  and  pain 
Thou  wert  never  sent  in  vain,  — 
And  thy  mission,  pure  and  high. 
Is  on  record  in  the  sky  ! 


BACCHUS  AND  THE  FROGS. 

FROM  ARISTOPHANES. 

Chorus  of  Frogs.    Croak  —  croak  —  croak  ! 

Bacchus.  AVell,  well,  —  you  may  choke, — 

I  care  not  at  all 
How  loudly  you  bawl, 
This  croaking,  d'  ye  see, 
It's  nothing  to  me. 

Leader  of  Frogs.    AVe  care  not  a  jot. 
If  you  like  or  not. 
But  as  long  as  our  throats 
Can  compass  the  notes, 
We'll  sing,  if  we  choke. 
With  our  — 

Chorus.  Croak  —  croak  —  croak ! 


BACCHUS    AND    THE    FROGS. 


59 


Bacchus.  Base  son  of  the  pool ! 

Do  you  think  I'm  a  fool 
To  be  overcome  thus  ?  — 

Leader  of  Frogs.    An<l  shall  you  conquer  us  .- 
No,  no,  let  us  tr\-, — 
I'll  sing  till  I  die. 

Bacchus.  Well,  well,  my  good  fellow, 

I'll  yell  and  I'll  bellow, 
'T  is  a  shame  and  a  sin 
To  give  way  to  this  din, — 
So  come  on,  hearts  of  oak,- 

Chorus.  Croak  —  croak  —  croak  — 

Croak — Croak  —  Croak  ! 


SHE'S  FAIR  JlND  FALSE. 

She's  fair  and  false  !  that  such  a  heart, 

Should  sully  dwelling  so  divine  ! 
Heaven's  temple  all  the  outward  part, 

But  shame  defiles  the  inner  shrine. 
Methought,  bewildered  by  the  grace, 

That  flowed  on  every  tone  and  look, 
My  foolish  heart  might  dare  to  trace 

The  fountain  of  so  sweet  a  brook. 

Of  some  clear  lake  he  loves  to  think. 

Who  tracks  the  river's  pleasant  course, 
And  sighs  at  length  to  see  it  sink 

In  weeds  and  caverns,  at  its  source. 
Thus  I,  beguiled  by  many  a  dream. 

That  led  through  scenes  of  dazzling  bloom, 
Heart-sick  beheld  my  fairy  stream 

Fade  icy-cold  in  depths  and  gloom. 


I  MET  THEE. 

I  MET  thee  when  thy  youthful  charms 

Were  like  the  floweret's  sweetest  bell, 
Tliat  secret  hangs,  remote  from  harms, 

In  nature''s  most  secluded  dell ; 
Unconscious  of  life's  noon-day  glare, 

Thine  early  hours  had  glided  on, 
In  sweetness  with  its  gontler  air, 

In  brightness  with  its  morning  sun. 

Scarce  like  a  thing  of  mortal  mould 

I  saw  the  lovely  image  rise. 
So  clear  the  spirit  through  its  fold, 

So  kindred  to  its  native  skies. 
Its  graceful  stem,  earth's  nider  blast 

Might  seem  to  break,  that  o'er  it  swept. 
Yet  anguish  could  not  paint  the  past 

Like  hope  the  future,  while  I  wept. 


YON  LOVELY  STAK. 

Yon  lovely  star,  that  greets  our  eyes, 

Oft  as  prevails  descending  night, 
And  lives  divinely  in  the  skies. 

Forever  pure,  forever  bright ; 
Though  clouds  may  often  veil  its  face. 

Or  midnight  tempests  roll  between, 
They  pass,  and  leave  no  single  trace 

On  all  its  perfect  beauty  seen. 

And  thus,  though  clouds,  with  drooping  wing, 

May  sometimes  hover  o'er  thy  way. 
And  human  care  and  sorrow  fling 

Life's  passing  sadness  on  the  day ; 
Still,  as  these  transient  shadows  roll, 

May  all  thy  spirit's  lustre  rise, 
Undimmed  the  pathway  of  thy  soul, 

Bright  and  eternal  in  the  skies. 


ST  AW.  \.>. 

On  lady,  take  these  wilding  flowers, 
Earliest  of  Spring's  reviving  birth, 

And  emblems,  in  her  freshening  bowers, 
Of  all  that's  bright  and  best  of  earth. 

In  hue  so  sweet,  so  pure,  so  fair. 
These  symbols  of  divinest  things. 

Like  maidens,  court  the  summer  air, 
And  shrink  from  Winter's  icy  wings. 

But  born  from  day's  irradiant  Ix^am, 

They  caught  these  hues,  so  softly  bright, 

Live  in  the  blaze,  and  only  seem 
More  glorious  for  the  dazzling  light. 

Far  different  law  must  she  obey, 
Their  sister  flower,  the  lovely  maid, 

And,  shrinking  from  the  glare  away, 
Owe  all  her  beauties  to  the  shade. 


SONG. 

Oh,  'tis  merry  and  free,  by  the  wild,  wild  sea, 

Where  the  turabhng  breakers  dash  and  howl, 
But  we,  who  are  boys  of  the  greenwood  tree, 

Love  the  tossing  bough  and  the  forest-growl. 
And  over  the  prairie,  away,  away, 

What  wave  so  swift  as  our  forest-steeds  ! 
We  sling  our  rifles,  ere  peep  of  day. 

And  ho !  for  the  glades,  where  the  wild-deer  feeds. 

At  the  wintry  morn,  when  with  circling  flow 

The  dancing  blood  to  the  keen  air  springs, 
We're  on  and  away,  o'er  the  tinkling  snow. 

That  under  our  tread  with  a  music  rings  ; 
And  the  silvery  sparkles  flash  and  fly 

From  the  iron  hoofs,  that  are  fleet  and  strong. 
And  the  gray  quail  starts,  with  her  whistling  cry. 

And  the  partridge  whirrs,  as  we  dash  along. 


SONG  65 

And  over  our  saddles,  while  day  is  bright, 

We  fling  the  dun-deer  and  the  prairie  bird, 
And  hey,  for  the  eyes,  that  will  dance  in  light, 

When  the  homeward  tramp  of  our  steeds  is  heard ! 
Oh,  this  is  the  life  of  the  woodsman  free, 

In  his  hut  by  the  clearing,  wild  and  rude, 
Thougli  'tis  merry  and  free,  by  the  glad,  glad  sea. 

Yet  ours  he  the  jov  of  iIkj  <jrci  n  wild  wood  ! 


SONG. 


Oh,  'tis  said,  far  away,  o'er  the  blue-rolling  wave, 
There  are  islands  of  verdure,  unchanging  and  bright, 
AVhere  the  wind  has  a  voice,  like  a  shell's  from  its  cave, 
That  can  lull  the  whole  soul  in  a  dream  of  delight. 

There  the  murmur  of  ocean,  that  falls  on  the  shore, 
Faints  in  distance  away  with  a  music-like  tone. 
And  the  sweet-singing  bird  tunes  his  love-laden  lore, 
Under  bowers  whose  bright  roses  forever  are  blown. 

And  the  glory  of  summer,  so  freshly  and  green, 
Flings  its  loveliness  over  them  all  the  year  long. 
And  the  days  melt  away,  like  a  fairy-built  scene, 
'Mid  the  rapture  of  beauty  and  fragrance  and  song. 


SONG.  b  t 

Oh,  there  could  we  fly,  till  the  world  and  its  schemes, 
Like  some  cloud-gathered  pageant,  grew  distant  and 

dim, 
There  the  light  of  our  life  should  be  paradise-dreams, 
And  its  music  all  nature's  perpetual  hymn  ! 

Let  the  dclvcr  for  gold,  with  his  wearistyi.i-   «  .i.l, 
Grope   ffjr  hcart-chllliii'j  In  :isiir<s.  tli.it   fn-cze  as  we 

And  the  minion  of  fame  for  that  phantom  of  air, 
Chase  the  fanciful  bubbles,  that  break  in  the  grasp ; 

But  dearer  than  all,  of  which  poets  have  told. 
Were  our  life  and  our  love  in  those  magical  isles. 
Where  the  heart's  daily  sunshine  could   never  grow 

cold. 
And  our  hopes  and  our  i«»ys  fed  forever  on  smiles. 


SONG. 

Yes,  they  say  that  the  beautiful  flowers 
Are  types,  in  their  sweet  degree, 

Of  the  dear  ones  we  love  so  fondly, 
But  where  can  be  type  of  thee,  dearest, 
Oh,  where  can  be  type  of  thee  ? 

And  the  echo  of  far-away  music, 

Over  waters  still  and  lone. 
Is  like  woman's  dear  voice  when  sweetest, 

But  thine  has  its  own  sweet  tone,  dearest, 
But  thine  has  its  own  sweet  tone. 

If,  like  stars  in  the  blue  that's  above  us. 
There  be  gentle  eyes  that  glow. 

Yet  there 's  none  to  compare  in  heaven 
With  one  love-lit  beam  below,  dearest, 
With  one  love-lit  beam  below. 


SONG.  69 

And  though  beauty  and  softness  and  brightness 

Arc  all  of  tliom  tilings  divine, 
Yet  music  and  flowers  and  starlight 

Have  none  of  them  charms  like  thine,  dearest, 
Have  none  of  them  charms  like  thino. 

Oh,  the  heart,  oh,  the  heart's  the  enchanter, 

And  bright  all  its  dream  shall  be. 
Since  thou  art  my  own  and  my  darling, 

And  1  am  thine  all  to  thee,  dearest, 
And  I  am  thine  all  U)  thee. 


SONG. 

Darling  eyes,  where  smiles  are  waking, 

Through  the  mist  of  dewy  tears, 
Like  the  morning  grayly  breaking, 

Ere  the  golden  day  appears  ; 
Half-way  sad,  like  shaded  moonlight. 

Through  the  covert's  chequered  leaves, 
Half-way  sweet,  as  stars  that  midnight 

On  the  broidered  azure  weaves. 

Darling  eyes,  forever  changing 

With  some  feeling  dear  and  new, 
Every  soft  emotion  ranging. 

But  the  soul  still  gushing  through ; 
Now  with  falcon  glances  gleaming. 

Underneath  the  lifted  lid, 
Now  with  love's  enchantments  beaming. 

Half  behind  their  frino^es  hid. 


SO-NG.  71 


Darling  eyes,  where  ever  hovering, 

In  the  sunshine  or  the  shower,. 
Looks  the  spirit  tlirough  its  covering, 

As  heneath  a  gem  a  flower ; 
Oh,  for  every  sweet  confession, 

Each  a  world\s  delights  above, 
All  we  know  is  one  expression, 

And  the  word  wc  say  is,  Love. 


LOVE. 


Men  tell  us  love  is  only  vain, 

A  fleeting  shade,  an  empty  cheat, 

Though  down  from  Eden's  bowers,  'tis  plain, 
The  world  has  chased  that  fond  deceit. 

Some  nobler  hope,  these  graybeards  name, 
As  worthiest  of  the  manly  heart. 

The  ruddy  gold,  —  the  sounded  fame, — 
The  glow  of  thought,  and  wreath  of  Art. 

Methinks,  the  sage  may  con  his  theme, 
Till  nature's  flickering  flame  expire, — 

Life  were,  indeed,  a  worthless  dream. 
If  only  these  could  w^ake  its  fire  ! 


LOVE.  73 

But  Love,  still  sovereign  as  of  old, 
Makes  them  his  slaves  obedient  move, 

And  Fame  and  Art  and  sullen  Gold, 
And  conquering  Genius  bend  to  Love. 


AH,  FOOLISH  HEART. 


Ah,  foolish  heart,  through  all  whose  pulses  rushes 
This  tumult  of  emotions,  wild  and  deep, 

Ah,  what  hast  thou  to  do  with  sighs  and  blushes, 
Love's  fatal  hopes  and  fears,  that  fain  would  sleep ! 

Were  it  not  better,  through  life's  sullen  journey, 
Safe  from  deluding  snares  to  walk  unmoved, 

And  mingling,  manful,  in  the  knightly  tourney. 
Ask  never  for  thy  guerdon,  —  to  be  loved  ! 

Toss,  if  thou  wilt,  upon  the  battling  ocean,  — 
'Mid  the  rude  cannonade  look  calmly  on,  — 

Nor  fear  their  power,  to  stir  in  wild  commotion 
One  half  the  thoughts  this  traitor  Love  has  done. 


An,    FOOLISH    HEART.  75 

Yet  who  can  steel  his  heart  ?  oh  sweet  deceiver  I 
That  cheats  the  surest  him  who  guards  it  most, 

Lulls  into  dreams  secure  the  fond  believer, 
Nor  wakes  the  spirit's  doubt,  till  all  is  lost. 

Vet,  yet,  false  htaru  i:in  wrii,  farewell  forever  I 
It  were  but  death  thus,  thus  to  live  and  ache, 

And  tljough  the  struggle  every  life-string  sever, 
1  trample  on  my  heart,  and  bid  it  break. 


EPITHALAMIUM. 

Sound,  —  sound  the  notes  of  joy, 
Sweet  pipe,  and  tabret,  ring  ! 
And  every  trembling  string 

Let  the  high  harp  employ  ; 

Give  the  heart's  voice  to  words,  — 
Bid  them  responsive  roll, 
While  song's  enraptured  soul 

Leaps  glowing  from  the  golden  chords. 

Exulting  be  the  strains, 

When,  fresh  from  mingling  hearts, 

Life's  dearest  impulse  starts. 
And  Love  immortal  reigns. 
Beauty,  with  manhood's  pride  ! 

Now,  the  full  concert  bring,  — 

Now,  hymeneals  sing,  — 
Welcome,  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride. 


EPITHALAMIUM.  77 

He  comes,  the  bridegroom  comes ! 

Behold  what  generous  grace, 

And  how  liis  manly  face 
The  kindled  soul  illumes! 
Fill  high,  —  let  wine-cups  flow, — 

Wish  all  his  life's  bright  stream 

Glad  as  their  sparkling  bf'am, 
And  vears  and  honors  wrcatln-  his  brow. 

And  she,  the  blushing  bride  ! 

Of  :»I1  tlic  lovely  band. 

Lead  her,  with  gentle  hand, 
The  loveliest  to  his  side. 
Ah,  from  earth's  fairest  bower, 

What,  that  most  rich  is  tlierc. 

Can  grace  her  mazy  hair! 
Joy,  joy  to  her.  —  Love's  sweetest  flower! 

Now  she,  his  own,  —  his  own, — 

And  he,  her  heart,  —  her  life, — 
By  the  dear  name  of  '  wife,' 

And  *  husband's '  household  tone  ! 


78  EPITHALAMIUM. 

Home's  old  unfading  blaze 

Grant  them,  oh  Power  divine, 
True  as  their  truth  to  shine, 

-And  endless  blessings  crown  their  days ! 


SONNET. 

Two  maidens,  precious  as  the  morning  dew, 
No  shafted  marble  half  so  lily-fair, 
Save  tlie  peach-tinge  upon  the  clieek,  and  hair 
Glossy  with  brightness  in  its  midnight  hue  ; 
Two  gallant  lovers,  gentle,  fond  and  true, 
Manly  and  bold,  in  life's  emblossomed  spring, 
Love,  sovereign  in  the  midst,  with  folded  wing, 
One  eye,  one  thought,  one  heart  for  either  two ; 
A  wedding  garland  and  a  bridal  bed, — 
A  funeral  chant,  a  flowrel's  broken  stem, — 
This,  fresh  on  manhood's  breast,  a  living  gem, 
That,  on  its  flowery  stalk,  withered  and  dead ;  — 
Oh  Life  !  to  end  with  earth's  uiKMiual  doom, — 
Oh  moment's  sun  and  shade  !  oh   Heaven's  eternal 
bloom ! 


SONNET. 

He,  from  her  lip  and  cheek  and  matchless  brow, 
And  orient  heaven  of  her  unrivalled  eyes, 
Drew  kisses  sweeter  than  tl.e  dew  that  lies 
Where  banks  of  flowery  bloom  their  odors  throw ; 
She,  like  the  Night,  whose  softest  summer  glow 
With  starry  lustre  bathes  the  earth  and  sky, — 
He,  as  the  Morn,  that  lingering,  loth  to  go, 
In  her  embracing  beauty  fain  would  die. 
And  Love,  no  shadow  of  that  bright  estate. 
Known  but  by  shadows  to  the  cold  and  vain,  * 
But  infinite  in  joy,  or  in  its  pain 
Beyond  all  antidote  of  mortal  date,  — 
Such  love  from  eye,  lip,  cheek,  brow,  soul,  he  drew, 
Stamped  with  its  living  seal,  till  love  immortal  grew. 


SONNET. 

Say  not,  'wc  part;'  —  Sweet  love,  we  part  no  more, 

Souls  linked  like  ours  nor  chance  nor  cliangc  disjoin  : 

Just  like  a  prodigal,  whose  latest  coin 

lie  flings  in  fortune's  face, —  its  lavish  store, 

My  spendthrift  heart's  last  treasure  do  I  pour 

At  thy  dear  feet.     Alas,  how  far  away. 

In  the  dark  city  pent,  and  every  day 

Conning  my  long-learnt  lesson  o'er  and  o'er, 

So  taught  of  thee  !     Thou,  by  the  sea-heat  shore, 

Listenest  a  thousand  voices  ;  hut  one  tone 

Dwells  on  thy  heart,  and  will  be  heard  alone, 

Whispering  forever,  through  the  breakers'  rour, 

That  sad  sweet  language  soul  reveals  to  soul, 

Though  oceans  swell  between,  from  icy  pole  to  pole. 


SONNET. 

Methinks  it  sweeter  were  to  love  thee  so,  — 
So  young,  so  pure,  so  dear,  so  sacred  grown. 
Far,  far  from  thee,  and  nevermore  to  know 
Or  look,  or  touch,  or  love's  delirious  tone  ; 
Like  some  pale  pilgrim  to  an  altar  lone, 
Who  finds  but  ruins,  when  he  seeks  the  spot,  — 
To  be  where  thou  hast  been,  and  see  thee  not, 
And  Hope's  fresh  statue  but  an  idol  gone,  — 
Dearer  were  this,  (if  Fate  will  work  such  woe) 
Than  other  earthly  love,  however  blest, — 
Still  thy  sweet  image  to  my  beating  breast. 
Through  the  long  day,  monotonous  and  slow, 
I  clasp,  —  'tis  mine,— and  o'er  me,  every  night. 
Looks  down  thy  fair  young  face  and  makes  my  mid- 
night bright. 


Nevehmore  !  all,  nevermore! 
Soul's  deep  voice  of  true  heart-aching, 

Nevermore  ! 
With  a  struggle  and  a  waking, 
Life  and  iiope  have  done  leave-taking. 
And  the  spirit  learns  the  tone 
Nevermore  to  he  unknown, 

Nevermore ! 

Nevermore!  ah,  nevermore ! 
Re  no  words  of  griff  let  fall, 
This  one  word  says  sorrow^  all. 

Nevermore  ! 
Let  thy  palms  enclasp  thy  face, 
Drowning  tears  shall  ne'er  erase 

This  stern  word,  nevermore  ! 
Fold  thine  arms  upon  thy  hrcast. 
Where  the  wurld  of  woe  is  prcst, 


84  EPICEDIUM. 

In  thy  bosom,  dark  and  deep, 
Shall  thy  busy  fancies  rest 

Nevermore  ! 
Now  thou  canst  not  shake  apart 
The  mists  around  thy  heart, 
Where  the  stifling  shadows  creep, 
Like  dreams  that  trouble  sleep, 
When  we  wake  with  strange  surprise, 
And  the  tears  are  in  our  eyes. 
And  a  voice  is  ever  heard, 
Dread  as  ocean's  unknown  word. 
Where  their  chiming^  even-soncr 
Sadly  chant  the  waves  along, 
Over  wrecks  down  deep  below. 
Singing  ever  as  they  flow. 
And,  in  murmurs  far  away. 
Seem  the  mingling  tones  to  say. 

Nevermore  ! 

Nevermore  !  ah,  nevermore  ! 
All  thy  strength,  alas,  is  sold. 
And  thy  life  is  high  and  bold 
Nevermore  ! 


EPICEDIUM.  85 


Now  tlic  silver  chord  is  loosed, 
And  the  fountain  all  unused, 
And  hope  is  dead  and  cold 
In  the  goblet's  cliarmed  gold  ; 
Nor  the  flashing  bubbles  swim, 
Tiushing  o'er  the  beaded  brim  ; 
And  the  almond  flings  its  shade 
Where  the  sunny  waters  played. 
Tlie  daylight  comes  and  goes, 
The  lily  and  the  rose, 
And  the  voice,  that  haunts  the  gale, 
Sings  a  1(j\v  and  nuturiiful  wail, 
Like  the  shadow  of  a  tone, 
Ijovcd  so  well !  but  dead  and  gone  ; 
And  for  thoe  nor  sight  nor  voice 
P.ids  tliv  soul  again  rejoice, 

Nevermore  ! 
Summer  scorns  an  idle  thing, 
And  thou  kuow'st  not  it  is  Spring, 
Since  the  storm  and  frozen  shower 
Passed  upon  the  faded  flower, 

Nevermore  ! 
Ah,  wild  word,  Nevermore  ! 


86  EPICEDIUM. 

Nevermore  !  ah,  nevermore  ! 
On  the  lea  the  golden  flowers 
Tell  of  memory's  gentle  hours, 
And  the  fields  contented  lie 
Underneath  the  purple  sky  ; 
And  the  springing  grass  is  sweet, 
In  its  vesture  at  thy  feet ; 
The  fringed  lake  lies  still, 
In  the  shadow  of  the  hill ; 
Through  his  halls,  in  glory  drest, 
Walked  the  brided  sun  to  rest. 
And  the  pleasant  stars  look  through 
The  calm  and  holy  blue  ; 
Liquid  whispers,  faint  and  soft, 
Stir  the  budding  leaves  aloft ; 
Now  and  then,  some  sweet-tongued  bird, 
From  the  copse,  hard-by,  is  heard  ; 
Far  away,  a  mellow  tone. 
And  the  voice  is  Ocean's  own, — 

Nevermore  !  weep  nevermore  ! 
Leaves,  that  Autumn  scattered,  lying, 
Dearest  things,  forever  dying, 


EPICEDIUM. 

Say,  thy  language  gives  but  tone 
To  tliy  brother's  stifled  moan. 

Nevermore  !  weep  nevermore  ! 
Lovely  things,  that  round  us  rise, 
Are  but  sliadows  of  the  skies, 
Each  an  imaged  beauty  furled 
Round  the  inner  spirit-world. 
Nevermore  !  oh,  never  weep. 
That  she  seemed  to  fall  asleep ! 
ralincd  to  peace,  within  thy  breast. 
Let  thy  troubled  fancies  rest; 
Wrinj'ini'  heart-aches  come  no  more. 

Nevermore ! 
Bid  the  fretting  tempest  roar, — 
She  hath  found  the  quiet  shore, 
And  the  golden  flowers  are  sweet 
Round  about  her  silvery  feet. 
And  the  sunshine  of  her  youth 
Floats  on  seas  of  perfect  truth  ; 
No  bewildering  dreams  arise 
On  her  soft  autl  tnuKjuil  eyes. 
Nor  brooding  troubles  throng. 
Nor  deceit  can  do  her  wronii;, 


SONNET. 


A   STATESMAJf. 


Staunch  at  thy  post,  to  meet  life's  common  doom, 
It  scarce  seems  death,  to  die  as  thou  hast  died ; 
Thy  duty  done,  thy  truth,  strength,  courage,  tried. 
And  all  things  ripe  for  the  fulfilling  tomb  ! 
A  crown  would  mock  thy  hearse's  sable  gloom, 
Whose  virtues  raised  thee  higher  than  a  throne, 
Whose  faults  were  erring  Nature's,  not  his  own,  — 
Such  be  thy  sentence,  writ  with  Fame's  bright  plume. 
Amongst  the  good  and  great ;  for  thou  wast  great. 
In  thought,  word,  deed, — like  mightiest  ones  of  old, — 
Full  of  the  honest  truth,  which  makes  men  bold, 
W^ise,  pure,  firm,  just ;  the  noblest  Roman's  state 
Became  not  more  a  Ruler  of  the  free, 
Than  thy  plain  life,  high  thoughts  and  matchless  con- 
stancy. 


SONNET. 


PHILOSOPHY. 


TliROUciHOUT  the  world  in  ..i....  ..i  ..i,.  ;!..  y  -..ght 

Some  solid  good  to  fill  the  restless  mind  ; 
The  long  desired,  but  still  unfound,  to  find, 
The  heart's  last  refuge  and  the  goal  of  thought ; 
Wliat,  in  its  depths,  the  burning  soul  has  wrought 
Of  visions  moulded  with  consuming  fire, 
And  all  tliat  sprang  spontaneous  to  the  lyre, 
In  harmonies  of  golden  words,  they  caught ; 
Upon  the  mountain-top,  where  silence  broods, 
They  questioned  of  the  stars ;  and  by  the  shore 
Asked  of  its  waves,  and  pondered  all  the  lore 
Of  peopled  plain,  or  taught  in  solemn  woods  ; 
Without,  —  within,  —  alas,  how  vain  the  quest! 
Nor  mind,  nor  nature  breathed  Heaven's  holiest  whi: 
per,  Rest. 


SONNET. 


CHRISTIANITY. 


Lo,  in  the  East  a  star !  the  orient  shade, 
Unfolding,  utters  Heaven's  unwonted  gleam ; 
And  now  the  holy  light  its  gracious  beam 
Rests  o'er  the  place  where  the  young  Child  is  laid. 
Behold,  the  wise  men  come,  —  with  gifts  arrayed, 
Gold,  myrrh,  frankincense, — while  on  Bethlehem's  plain 
The  shepherds  catch,  enraptured  though  afraid, 
Of  heaven's  bright  host  the  life-assuring  strain. 
Death,  in  the  shadow  of  his  valley's  gloom, 
Apparent  kipg,  hears  the  glad  sound,  —  and  dies  ;  — 
'  Immortal  life  ! '  shouts  the  re-opening  tomb,  — 
'  Immortal  life  ! '  the  exulting  host  replies  ! 
Nature's  long  doubt  is  solved  ;  that  light  from  far 
Still  brightening  kindles  faith,  lo,  in  the  East  a  star  ! 


SONNET. 


I.    C0R1NTU1AX3,    XV. 


O  fool!    To  ju(lf,'o  tliat  He,  wlio  from  the  earth 

Creatcil  man,  cannot  his  frame  restore, 

Tlie  scattered  elements  from  every  shore 

Call  hack,  and  clotlie  with  a  celestial  birth! 

See  from  its  sheath  the  buried  seed  break  forth, 

Blade,  stalk,  leaf,  bud,  and  now  the  perfect  flower. 

Changing  and  yet  the  same  ;  and  of  I  lis  power 

A  token  each  !    And  art  thou  counted  worth 

Less  than  the  meanest  herb  ?    Changed  from  the  dust, 

And  little  lower  than  the  angels  made, 

More  changed  by  sin,  to  death  itself  betrayed, 

Yet  heir  of  heaven  by  an  immortal  trust! 

Doubter  unwise,  in  reason's  narrow  school. 

Well  might  the  great  Apostle  say,  '  Thou  fool ! ' 


SONNET. 

MATTHEW  XXI.,    5. 

He  comes,  a  King !  what  splendors  gird  him  round, 
Jewel  and  sceptre  and  the  circled  gold ! 
What  hosts,  what  princes  of  the  realms  of  old, — 
The  chafing  squadron  and  the  clanging  sound ! 
A  King  !     Not  such  his  advent !     To  the  ground 
Cast  palms  and  garments,  and  hosannas  sing ; 
This  is  the  Lord  of  Heaven!  Creation's  King! 
Yet  pomp  nor  state  his  earthly  throne  surround ; 
His  throng  the  poor  and  humble,  sons  of  shame, 
Who  crowd  his  steps  and  on  his  message  wait ; 
A  beggar's  beast  His  seat  to  Zion's  gate. 
And  these  His  triumphs  and  His  might  proclaim ; 
No  worldly  kingdom  thine,  or  homage  vain. 
Throned  in  the  heart  alone,  O  Lord,  thy  sovereign 
reien ! 


DEDICATION  IIYMX. 

How  fjjlorioiis,  Lord,  tliino  cartlily  tomplcs  rise ! 

And  every  solemn  spire,  that  meits  tlic  sky, 
Draws  Ilcavon,  descending,  nearer  to  our  eyes. 

And  lifts  tlu'  rising  soid  to  worlds  on  high. 

In  dens  and  mountain  caves,  \\i\  ^^,l.lli>  of  old, 

Thnuigh  clouds   and    (I.irl<iic-;^.  soinjlif   tlic    j)rf»ini>c 
given, 

Our  hrighter  vision  hids  us  view  unroll<'(l 

Tliv  glories  heaminir  in  tin.'  blaze  of  Heaven. 

I  J)  to  thy  holy  name,  our  fathers'  iJotI  ! 

How  oft  our  lips  the  cheerful  song  have  raised! 
In  doubl  and  fear  thy  sacred  courts  they  trod, 

And  praised  thy  love,  but  trembled  while  they  praised. 

FiVcn  here,  where  nature  breathes  so  calm  and  still, 

And  all  is  peaceful  as  thy  holy  word. 
In  arms  they  prayed,  and  stood  to  hear  thy  will, 

And  giasj  cd  their  warlike  weapons,  as  they  heard. 


96  DEDICATION    HYMN. 

Their  quiet  graves  are  lying  all  around, 

And  long  have  slept  their  trials,  doubts  and  fears, 

And  mossy  stones,  that  lowly  press  the  ground, 
Record  their  tale  of  twice  a  hundred  years. 

Oh,  for  their  fervent,  simple  hearts  of  yore ! 

The  zeal  they  felt, — the  conquering  faith  they  knew  ! 
For  this  we  'd  welcome  all  the  toils  they  bore. 

And  joyful  seize  their  final  victory  too. 

Yet,  while  an  evil  age  thy  truth  perverts. 

The  plain  and  sacred  truth  our  ears  have  heard, 

And  light  but  darkens,  in  their  wandering  hearts, 
The  gospel  glories  brightening  round  thy  word; 

Yet,  Lord !  on  us  bestow  thine  ancient  grace. 
As  dews  descending  bless  this  holy  sod. 

That  children's  children  here,  an  unborn  race, 
May  know  and  prove  thee  still  their  fathers'  God ! 


HYMN, 

rOR  TBI   KC-DBOICATION  OF  A  MEKTTSC-HOCSS  tLETkltLMD* 

TiiY  temple  stands,  oh  God  of  grace ! 

Above  our  tlioiight,  beneath  our  tread, 
Its  amplf  floor  uiuiicasured  space, 

Its  arch  with  worlds  unnumbered  spread. 

Yet,  though  not  all  creation's  bound 
Thy  power  contains,  thy  glory  tells, 

Within  thine  earthly  courts  are  found 
The  places  where  thy  Spirit  dwells. 

Thus,  on  our  sires,  an  honored  race, 
Thy  love  descended  like  the  rain, 

While  here  they  met  to  seek  thy  face, 
Nor  sent  a  prayer  to  Heaven  in  vain. 
7 


98  HYMN. 

These  sacred  walls  thy  truth  have  heard 
From  fervent  heart  and  burning  tongue, 

And  long  the  message  of  thy  word 

Has  cheered  the  old  and  led  the  young. 

This  earthly  temple  of  thy  praise, 

How  glorious,  and  how  dear  its  name ! 

Thy  blessing  crowned  its  ancient  days. 
Thy  promised  blessing  stands  the  same. 

Still,  on  that  Eock  in  Zion  laid, 

May  here  thy  church  triumphant  rise. 

Thy  truth  its  deep  foundations  made, 
Its  hope  eternal  in  the  skies ! 

Nor  gorgeous  rites,  nor  shrines  of  gold 
Within  these  sacred  precincts  be, — 

But  grant  the  fervent  faith  of  old, 
To  bind  us  closer.  Lord,  to  Thee ! 

And  still,  while  ages  roll  away. 
May  each  successive  race  appear. 

Here  learn  to  love  and  praise  and  pray. 
And  find  their  God,  their  Saviour  here  ! 


imiN. 

Great  God  !  how  vain  our  lives  can  be, 
Forgetful  of  their  true  estate  ! 

Our  wandering  spirits  fly  from  thee, 
Relinquish  heaven  and  tempt  their  fate. 

Yet  what  a  dream,  if  this  were  all, — 
To  gain  the  world  and  win  but  loss ! 

To  feel  its  chiefest  pleasures  pall, 
To  grasp  its  gold,  nn.l  find  It  dross. 

Oh,  could  we  taste  those  living  springs, 
That  flow  through  all  the  heavenly  road, 

And  feel  the  souPs  expanded  wings. 
Reviving,  mount  to  thine  abode ! 


100  HYMN. 

But  doubts  and  fears,  like  cloud  on  cloud, 
Around  us  fling  their  gloomy  screen, 

And  sin  grows  up,  a  frightful  shroud. 
Our  hearts,  and  oh,  our  heaven  between. 

Strange,  thus  to  slight  immortal  birth. 
To  chase  each  transient  shade  that  flies. 

And  for  the  baseless  things  of  earth 
Forego  our  title  to  the  skies  ! 

Yet  thus  we  cling  to  time's  control, 
And  wasted  hopes  to  earth  are  given. 

Till  God  recalls  the  wandering  soul. 
And  to  the  weary  opens  heaven. 


THE  FUTURE. 

Oh  Future,  deep  and  vast ! 

Wliat  echoes  of  the  Past 
Shall  give  thy  language  some  familiar  tone  ? 

Dark  sweeps  the  shadowy  train 

Of  thine  abysmal  reign, 
The  Unfathomable  rolls,  but  voice  lias  none ! 

Once,  there  were  opening  skies, 

And  seraph-like  replies 
To  man's  high  spirit,  strong  in  truthful  love, 

Heaven  had  celestial  songs, 

And  P\irth  a  thousand  tongues, 
By  shadowy  steep  and  every  whispering  grove. 


102  THE    FUTURE. 

But  now  the  heavens  are  dim, 

And  nature's  forest-hymn 
Is  but  the  breathing  wind's  mysterious  wail ; 

And  silent  look  on  earth 

Stars,  that  in  song  broke  forth, 
Choired  with  God's  sons,  creation's  dawn  to  hail. 


Seer  and  priest  are  dumb. 
Nor  guests  angelic  come. 

With  sweet  familiar  converse,  as  of  old  ; 
No  prophet-visions  roll. 
To  touch  man's  longing  soul 

With  fire  from  out  thine  adamantine  fold. 


Nor  now,  in  nightly  dreams, 

Come  Heaven's  communing  gleams. 
Nor  awful  counsel  guides  the  doubtful  day ; 

Nor  jewelled  ephods  rest 

Upon  the  priestly  breast. 
As  erst  when  Aaron's  sons  inquired  the  way. 


THE    FUTURE.  103 

Vocal,  in  nature's  prime, 

Some  legend  of  the  time 
Made  hill  and  vale  and  bright  responsive  stream  ; 

But  (lark  and  fabled  gods, 

AVho  held  those  old  abodes. 
Fled  with  the  morn,  dissolved,  a  spectral  dream. 


No  more,  with  garlands  led, 

The  victim^s  crowned  head 
Bows  down  hcfnn'  the  altar's  flowery'  mound, 

Nor  all  the  shouting  crowd, 

With  hymns  and  pirans  loud. 
Take  up  the  Flainen's  chant,  with  solemn  sound. 


Nor  now,  on  festal  days. 

Above  their  songs  of  praise, 
The  mystic  oracle's  responses  rise. 

Nor  yet,  by  fane  and  shrine, 

'Mid  rites  they  deemed  divine, 
The  Unknown  God  they  darkly  sought  replies. 


104  THE    FUTURE. 

No  more,  by  elfin  grot, 

Or  sweet  enchanted  spot, 
The  moonUght  people  dance  their  fairy  round ; 

Nor  shadowy  forms,  half-seen, 

Trip  o'er  the  rustic  green, 
Or  steal,  with  flitting  step,  through  haunted  ground. 


But  though  our  wiser  years 
Deride  their  mystic  fears. 

And  fond  illusions  of  the  days  of  old. 
We  love  a  darker  night, 
While  morn's  refulgent  light 

Pours  all  its  orient  streams  of  flooded  gold. 


And  broke  is  many  a  chain, 

Enwreathed,  oh,  not  in  vain. 
That  linked  us,  spirits,  to  the  spirit-shore ; 

And  thus  we  plod  by  day. 

And  grope  our  nightly  w^ay, 
To  Heaven's  far  bourne,  a  neighbor-strand  no  more. 


THE    F''^'"^\  105 

At  Sinai's  awful  base, 

The  Prophet  hid  his  face, 
Lest  God's  reflected  glorj'  should  appear, 

But  round  our  hearts  the  veil 

Folds  its  cnclouding  trtiil, 
Else  were  we  close  to  Him,  to  us  so  near ! 


And  though  forever  stand, 

In  the  eternal  land. 
The  living  pastures  spread  with  deathless  flowers, 

Dull  hangs  the  mortal  screen 

Heaven  and  our  hearts  between, 
And  shrouds  the  gates  of  pearl  and  sapphire  towers. 


Thus  is  the  spirit-world 

In  clouds  and  darkness  furled, 
Our  souls  shut  out  the  simple  truths  of  yore ; 

Our  spirits'  flickering  gleams 

Illume  but  faded  dreams. 
Whose  light  is  dark,  —  the  vision  comes  no  more. 
8 


106  THE    FUTURE 

And  though  the  things  we  clasp 

Are  bubbles  in  our  grasp, 
"We  count  it  wisdom  still  to  chase  the  cheat ; 

And  Faith  has  grown  too  cold 

To  pierce  the  sullen  mould, 
Wrapt  round  the  life  within,  Heaven's  wonted  seat. 


Oh  Future,  deep  and  vast ! 

The  spirit  of  the  Past 
Had  gleams  of  glory  from  the  homeward  sky : 

But  mute  thine  ocean  rolls 

To  our  reluctant  souls. 
And  shadows  fall  thy  waves,  without  reply  ! 


MEMORY  AND  UOPE. 

Memory  lias  a  sister  fair, 

Bluc-cyed,  laughing,  wild  and  glad, 
Oft  she  cotnes,  with  jocund  air, 

When  her  twin-horn  would  he  sad  ; 
Ilaml-in-hand  I  love  them  best, 

And  to  neither  traitor  prove, 
Both  can  charm  the  aching  breast, 

Scarce  I  know  which  most  to  love. 

Memory  has  a  downcast  face. 

Vet  'tis  winning,  sweet  and  mild. 
Then  comes  Hope,  with  cheerful  grace, 

Like  a  hrifrht  enchanting  child. 
Now,  I  kiss  this  rosy  cheek. 

And  the  dimpling  beam  appears, 
Then,  her  pensive  sister  seek, 

She  too  smiles,  through  pleasant  tears. 


108  MEMORY    AND    HOPE. 

Thus  the  heart  a  joy  may  take, 

Else  it  were  but  hard  to  win, 
And  a  quiet  household  make, 

Where  no  jealousies  come  in. 
If  thy  spirit  be  but  true, 

Love  like  this  is  sure  to  last,  — 
Happy  he,  who  weds  the  two, 

Hopeful  Future,  —  lovely  Past. 


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